Part 7 (1/2)
As the Night Watchmen struggled to manage the crisis, Becker backed away from the Windows, and for the first time that night, he began to feel the magnitude of what was taking place. There were not merely a handful of Night Watchmen, or a dozen, but rather hundreds, perhaps thousands, stacked row upon row on top of each other, rising into the air as far as the eye could see. On every monitor was a Sleepless person. In every chair, a Night Watchman was on the verge of freaking out.
”What are we gonna do, sir?”
Hundreds of pairs of eyes turned to Becker, as if he were the one that could rescue them from this impending nightmare. His mouth felt dry again and his heart began to pound, and for a second he thought he might pa.s.s out. But luckily, there was somewhere he he could turn . . . could turn . . .
Beside the Nature Trail and just off the Beaten Track, there exists a small complex where those in attendance are given Tools (both literal and figurative) with which to save The World. And just as Becker had done when recalling his Procedures, he now harkened back to those halcyon days when he was sculpted into the form and shape of what they call a Fixer.
Mission Simulator ”F,” Inst.i.tute for Fixing & Repair- Two and a Half Years Ago It was a rainy day at the IFR. Droplets fell off the poplar trees and onto the marble statue of Jayson-legendary founder of the Fixers-which was hand-carved with his famous last words: ”LIVE TO FIX. FIX TO LIVE.”
Every Candidate who walked through these doors lived by that credo, but not all of them could reach that lofty plateau. At this point in the process, Becker's cla.s.s had dwindled to seventeen (six had dropped out due to injury and one for ”personal reasons”), but those who had remained were beaming, because they had finally left the cla.s.sroom and were getting their first taste of the Mission Simulators.
”It's about time,” touted Becker, anxious to see a real Mission in the (virtual) flesh. Thibadeau Freck, the Frenchman he'd met that first day at Orientation, walked beside him, tightening his IFR bandanna.
”What? You're not satisfied learning how to change the air filter on a Stink Tank?”
”Only if I can scrub out the inside of a Fog Horn first.”
Becker laughed as they entered the door marked ”F.” He and the Parisian teenager had become fast friends and would often partner up in Shop or shoot pool in the Game Room during breaks. Thib was anxious to continue their contest of one-upsmans.h.i.+p, when- ”Quiet, Candidates!” Fixer Blaque hushed everyone to attention. ”I know everyone's excited, but this is one of the most important lessons you will learn about Fixing, so focus.”
Unlike some gurus or teachers whom Becker had run into in his time, Blaque's ”lessons” weren't really lessons at all- they were more like really cool vids or tricks of the trade-and Becker often wondered why he wasn't still practicing in the field. Rumor had it that Blaque had been #2 on the Duty Roster and in line to receive the Torch, but something happened to him on a Mission, and he was forced into early retirement.
”Please begin the simulation!”
One of the Mechanics15 inserted a cartridge labeled ”The Day That Time Stood Still” into a clunky-looking player, and the nondescript room was instantly transformed. inserted a cartridge labeled ”The Day That Time Stood Still” into a clunky-looking player, and the nondescript room was instantly transformed.
”Take it in, people.” The Candidates now stood in a holographic reproduction of a vault in the Department of Time. On that fateful day, uniformed workers bearing the insignia of a bra.s.s gear were running about in a state of extreme duress. ”See what can be seen.”
A Time Keeper, rendered in perfect detail, ran directly through Becker's stomach, causing him to reach down and confirm his intestines were still intact.
”Save the Frozen Moments!” The Keeper was carrying a tray of ice cubes, each with a preserved image of something happening inside. ”It's a Meltdown! A Meltdown!”
”Now notice Fixer Jackal.” Blaque turned the attention of the cla.s.s to the corner of the room, where an older Fixer in a sheepskin bomber jacket and aviator helmet was struggling to stem the tide of cubes that churned out of an archaic ice machine. ”What mistake did Tom make on this day?”
A few hands shot into the air.
”Mr. Larsson?”
”He didn't have a big enough ice bucket.”
”Incorrect.”
”Mr. Carmichael?”
”Check out those threads-the man ain't got no style.”
”Incorrect.” The cla.s.s cracked up, and even Blaque couldn't help but chuckle. Harold ”C-Note” Carmichael, the medical student, had proved to be a formidable Candidate but hadn't lost his knack for keeping it light.
”Mr. Freck?”
”He tried to save the entire World.”
”Correct.” This was no surprise. It often seemed to the rest of the Candidates that Thibadeau and Fixer Blaque were having an ongoing private conversation that no one else was party to. ”Please elaborate for the benefit of the cla.s.s.”
Thibadeau winced, a little uncomfortable at being set apart from his fellows.
”When you're in the middle of a job, you can't start to think about the consequences of your actions, or what might happen to The World if you fail. That can be a very slippery slope, which can only lead to one place . . . ”
He turned back to Fixer Jackal, who in his effort to save every single ice cube, was, in fact, saving none.
”Attaque de panique.”
”Exactly,” agreed Fixer Blaque. ”If you try to absorb the entire scope of a problem-if you try to save The World in toto-you will end up saving nothing at all.”
Becker offered Thib a covert low-five but yanked it away at the last moment.
”Teacher's pet.”
Thibadeau faked a punch, before both of them returned to the lesson.
”Pause sequence!”
The action stopped, leaving the Time Keepers frozen in midstride and Fixer Jackal drowning in a pool of melting Moments.
As with every lesson, Fixer Blaque saved the most valuable part for last.
”In every Mission, there is something small, something you can wrap your heart around, that will grant you the power to transcend the fear.” Fixer Blaque called out to the Simulator staff, ”Enhance 224 to 176!”
An ice cube on the floor lifted up and expanded to ten times its regular size. Inside were two people kissing in a snow-covered forest on a lost winter day, and the Candidates leaned in for a closer look.
”Find the Mission inside inside the Mission . . . ” the Mission . . . ”
Night Watchmen's Station, Department of Sleep, The Seems ”. . . and you will have found the greatest Tool of all.”
Once again, Becker's Training had paid off and his own ”attaque de panique” was soon to be under control.
”Keep going. . . . . ”
At the Fixer's request, Night Watchman #1 flipped through the Cases featured on his console: people in varying degrees of distress, all as a result of the Glitch in Sleep.
”I don't understand the point of-”
”Keep going!”